Closets and Clichés
by Topaz Tsubasa
Summary: "Natsume?" "Yes, dear?" he answers sarcastically. "Why are we both in a closet – again?" The multiple instances in Mikan Sakura's life in which she's pulled into small storing spaces with none other than Natsume Hyuuga.


_A/N: What is ahead is absolute fluff with a dash of humor. You have been __**warned**__. And Sam, my dear, I hope you enjoy this. I wrote it for you._

**Closets and Clichés**

_1._

Mikan almost grimaces at how cliché this is. And then, as she realizes exactly who she's stuck in a closet with, she switches to having to hold back tears. Oh, yes, in stories of hopeless romance and hapless teenagers, it's all fun and games. But when the one you're trapped with has been your sworn enemy since the moment they set eyes on you—when you were both _children_—things have a tendency to turn nasty.

Which is why Mikan is very, very surprised when she finds herself being backed up into a corner of an already crowded closet.

She looks up at her personal-space perpetrator, though she isn't sure why – it's absolutely pitch black in this dung of a storing space. At least it won't let her see his eyes. She doesn't think she can handle them right now; blood-red, fierce, and regrettably gorgeous, since day one. Much like the rest of him, at least on the account of that last description.

And – oh, hell, she can feel little tufts of his breath on her face. She isn't sure if she should freak out or knee him in the groin and make a run for it. She settles for playing it cool.

"Yes, Natsume?" Or at least semi-cool, dammit. Her voice just squeaked a little – something he's sure to notice at such close proximity.

The air in front of her freezes, and she feels tension start to gnaw at her insides. She isn't sure why it's starting just _now_ though – this is the boy who once pushed her into a huge pit of mud—and other brown things—and laughed afterwards! The same boy who's broken three of her friends' hearts without a single care for their feelings and wouldn't even bother to remember them!

Finally, he speaks, but they're words that one does not speak to a righteously angry Mikan Sakura; which he should know, but for some reason, doesn't at the moment.

"Calm down," he says, and Mikan only fumes silently because they're in a tight spot and she doesn't want to aim a punch at him and hit a stray broom instead. Not that the broom wouldn't deserve it – she's pretty sure more than a few people have been conked on the head with it by a vengeful Takahashi.

"Listen," he intones softly, softer than she's ever heard him speak. Well, it's not like there's much else she can do, Mikan thinks wryly. He has her tucked into a spot tight enough to induce claustrophobia.

"Listen," he repeats more insistently, because he can feel her getting off track.

"Alright," Mikan grumbles. Humoring him, even though, again, she doesn't know why she should.

"I want a truce."

For a moment, Mikan just stares at Natsume in disbelief. Then, cautiously, she asks, "Why?"

Ignoring the question—which makes no sense, since Natsume gave her the time to reply in the first place—he continues. "The terms are that you and I are to stop actively trying to off each other for the time being – and "time being" preferably meaning a very long time."

"But why?" She questions, all the more confused by his terms. "You always laugh at my pain! Why would I be civil with someone who decided it would be fun to burn one of my pigtails off? I walked around for weeks with short, icky boy hair!"

Natsume lets out a frustrated sigh.

Mikan continues her rant unperturbed. "And then even worse, I got used to not having to put my hair up in pigtails, so I haven't worn them since! Do you know how much I like pigtails? Wait, of course you do, that's why you burned one of mine off! You conniving, backstabbing, horrible—"

He gives her a light shove so that she's _really_ pressed up against the wall, and then gets real close. All words die in her throat.

"That was years ago."

Mikan can feel his lips ghosting across her cheek as he murmurs. She swallows and curses her girly teenaged hormones for finding him minutely attractive.

"And you're one to talk. All those things I did, and you still wouldn't give me the time of day. I thought I was going to have to shift to something more drastic, but then I decided I'm getting too old to work at actively hating someone undislikable. Besides," he moves his lips to her ear, and she _shivers_, dammit. "Someone's been messing around in _my_ business."

Mikan doesn't miss the surge of possession in his tone, or the meaning of his earlier words, and then suddenly, she gets it. Natsume likes her. He likes her, and when he caught word that someone was coming on to her, he got jealous. Thus his current actions.

(Actually, she finds Kusami rather annoying; he follows her around like a huge, un-adorable puppy and at times makes her life impossible. But it was his _very_ public actions that made their little debacle famous among the entire school in the first place.)

And it definitely explains how he treated her before. Mikan isn't dumb – she knows clichés when she sees them, and clichés are born out of real-life human actions, after all. Her whole life has been one thanks to the misunderstood actions of the boy in front of her, when he was younger. Actions that he's _still_ been committing. Goodness, he's a complete dunce.

"You're a complete dunce."

She can feel the pleased smile creep onto his face. "Knew you'd get it," he says, referencing her all-too-well known lack of book smarts. She _should_ feel spite for that, but it only makes Mikan smile good-naturedly. Natsume definitely isn't the first person to point out her school troubles.

Then he pulls back—which does _not_ leave her with a small sense of disappointment, no sir—just to come back and press his lips to hers.

Hm, what was that about disappointment?

Mikan smiles into the kiss, and fireworks continue to explode inside her.

_2._

"Natsume?"

"Yes, dear?" he answers sarcastically.

"Why are we both in a closet – again? You know what happened last time."

"Yes. Takamatsu caught us—"

"And proceeded to yell at us about skipping class to frolic behind closed doors," Mikan finishes contemptuously. Then she feels the need to go into even more detail. "And _then_ humiliated us by making us stand sentry in front of the whole school with signs that spelled 'delinquent' chained to our chests! And not taped or hung – chained!"

Natsume wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her close. "Would you give it a rest? It's our last week of school, for pity's sake. Finals are over…" He gives her a peck on the lips. "And I finally have you for myself."

Mikan scrunches her eyebrows at the underlying tone to his words. He really wants to do this now? Well, he does have a point. Hotaru's been taking up her time for the past few weeks making sure that she doesn't end up repeating her last year of high school. Hey, it's not like Mikan has the world's worst grades; she's a pile of dirt at tests is all. And everyone thought it best that her best friend would tutor her rather than her boyfriend – which would addle her stupid teenaged-girl hormones.

But anyway. Back to the point. They're alone (finally), and Takamatsu is likely around the corner ready to bust their bums to kingdom-come. Mikan tells him as much.

"Mikan, please," says Natsume, and she can almost, _almost_ hear him pleading. Which, in Natsume language, means that he's being earnest as can be – and it kills her.

"Fine," Mikan sighs, and then she mentally braces herself because Natsume definitely isn't one to sound earnest. She knew this was coming. They've been in the same boarding school since they were kids, and now it's their last week there.

Natsume would be going to some fancy college in Tokyo, no doubt. Mikan is still debating where to go, but she's been accepted into a plethora of good schools around the country – not that she'd stray too far from her home town. And the two of them still haven't sorted out where their relationship is going.

Interrupting her string of thought, Natsume declares unequivocally:

"I'm going to Tokyo, and you're coming with me."

Ah.

Looks like she was right to brace herself. Not that it's helped her any.

"_What?_" Mikan seethes, barely able to keep herself from shouting.

"I thought I was being perfectly clear," Natsume drones.

"You _were_!" Mikan hisses. "That's the problem! I don't get a say in what happens in my life all of a sudden?! God, Natsume, sometimes you're sweet, but you can be such a prick."

"I'll be taking that as a compliment," Natsume states factually. Mikan suddenly feels like punching a wall, but Natsume might suffice even better. But Mikan isn't a fan of violence, so she'll settle this how she normally does – with guilt trips.

"Why would you even – Natsume, do you not even care that I have a family? One that lives really, really far from Tokyo?"

"You could visit them by train," he vouches, which is a little lost on her because he's entirely deadpan as he does.

"I live in nowhere's-ville, Natsume. I'd have to take a train, three buses, and hike just to get to my house from _here_. How do you even know I'll be able to live in Tokyo? I've got my own needs and wants and interests and I come from a quiet town – you know how huge Tokyo is. You know how crowded and jaded it is, and where I come from is the exact opposite." There are silent tears streaming from Mikan's eyes now, and she finds herself being grateful for the shield the darkness provides.

"Mikan, you—"

"_No_, no. I'm not letting you get past this," Mikan presses. "I come from a place where there isn't a single soul that won't chip in if you're in trouble. A place that I've known of for years. I may come from nowhere's-ville, Natsume, but it's _my_ nowhere's-ville. And you really just expect me to drop everything I have and go with you, without a single say in it." Mikan is angry. But she doesn't sound angry, no, because she is so, so hurt at what Natsume has done.

They're wrapped in silence for a grippingly tense minute. The one to break it is Natsume, with a hand held out in apologetic truce.

"I'm sorry. I…went too far." She can feel every trace of his pride shattering with every word spoken, and bits of her anger—and hurt—start to melt away. "We should compromise."

Mikan stares at the hand in front of her—the outline is very barely visible—and tries to sort herself out. Mikan knows only too well what it feels like to be a tool, thanks to Principal Kuonji's meddling when she was a kid. What Natsume had said and how he said it – it had hit a little too close to home. She doesn't think he realizes that, though; he wasn't even present when it happened. And Natsume can be just a bit dense when it comes to people.

The raw emotions of before have ebbed away, and Mikan feels calm. She takes his hand and replies, "Alright. I'll go with you to Tokyo, but…"

"But…?" Natsume echoes, half-relieved, half-anxious.

"But we'll be living separately. My dad won't stand for me living with another boy. _And_," she interrupts when he starts to protest, "I'll need to be able to visit my parents or my friends any time I want. Even Hotaru."

"Hotaru is studying in _France_—"

"Do you want me to go with you or not?"

Natsume is silent for a few moments in front of her. Not long, but long enough to make her think that maybe she's demanding too much. Then he speaks up.

"You know, even if you stayed with your parents, you wouldn't get all of that," he says wryly.

"Of course, but I have to get _something_ out of staying with you," Mikan jokes.

Natsume snorts and yanks her into his chest – and he does so because now that she's joking, things are really, really alright. This is the part where Mikan starts to giggle uncontrollably, according to her vast knowledge of tropes and clichés, and damn her, she does so.

"You little minx," he growls playfully, and it only makes her giggle harder.

When her laughter starts to ebb—a long, _long_ time later—he sighs. "You're lucky I love you so much. When we're in Tokyo, you should answer my three am booty calls every night."

Oh, he's just _trying_ to get her giggling again, isn't he? Her poor stomach's suffered enough! Mikan smacks his shoulder.

"Okay, fine. In all seriousness, I accept the terms you've given me. And," his voice drops very low, "I look forward to being able to visit you _very_ often."

Mikan's legs go a little bit weak at the implications, and her trying to keep upright makes this the perfect time for Natsume to place his hands on her side and –

Start tickling her.

"_Natsume!_"

_3._

She's stuck in a closet—again—but this time Mikan is more than willing to excuse Natsume for it.

She throws her arms around his shoulders, briefly brushing her fingers across his face so she can do what she does next – which is virtually attack his mouth with a raw need that's been building up in her for weeks.

Natsume is quick to respond, as always, and is just as eager when she hooks her legs around his hips. However, their combined weight makes them teeter backwards and Natsume's back collides with the closet wall – among a few other things.

He only pulls away for a second to swear and then goes back to engaging in a quickly escalating battle with Mikan's lips.

Yes, the both of them are _really_ eager. And with good reason, too. It feels like life has been coming at the both of them from all sides, and now that they can finally, finally see each other, Mikan wants to take him into her with everything she has.

Rather unfortunately, Natsume seems to have other plans. He breaks away from her lips so he can trail kisses down her jaw. At her groan of disapproval, he smirks and murmurs, "As much as I like fooling around in the dark where we're not likely to be found, I did bring you here for a reason."

Trying not to sound too frustrated and letting him get the better of her, she asks, "And _what_ is that reason?" Well, she'd _meant_ to not sound too frustrated. It didn't exactly work, and Natsume snickers into her jaw unrepentantly.

"If you're going to be a wise crack about this, you might as well put me down," she mumbles, both embarrassed and annoyed.

Natsume stops snickering and does so. And somehow he feels – nervous? Mikan can feel it coming off him in waves. A nervous Natsume. An actual, _nervous_ Natsume.

Mikan's clichés tell her that this is gonna be _good_.

"So, I didn't want to do it this way," Natsume says, which is a very babble-y start for someone who doesn't babble. And now those same clichés have got warning sirens setting off in her head. "But I kept expecting a good time to show up and it never did, and the more I waited, the more I just wanted to get this _done_, so…"

Natsume finds her hand in the dark and places something round and metallic in the palm of her hand.

Mikan's eyes widen. Her throat closes up. Her clichés are writhing at how absurd this is. He is not proposing to her inside a closet!

"Mikan Sakura, will you give me the honor…" Oh, God, he is! Unbidden, tears start to fall from her eyes. "Of being my wife?"

It's so sudden. They've been so busy lately—she can count on one hand how many times she's seen him this month—and she barely has her feet on the ground in this damn pit of a city. Natsume has his killer job, too, so she wants to refuse—break both their hearts—but when she answers what comes out is a choked, watery, "Yes!"

Then they're in each other's arms and Natsume is breathing a sigh of relief and Mikan – she's just crying and laughing at the same time. Mikan kisses him full on the lips and hopes that with just that, she can pour all her emotions into him so he can understand exactly what he's done with just one question.

When they separate, Mikan's heart is beating fast and she feels like a giddy little girl. "You don't know what you've gotten yourself into, Mister. I'm going to make your life impossible."

Real, rare, _true_ smile in his voice, Natsume replies, "I think I can handle it."

_4._

"Are you ever going to get tired of stuffing me in closets?" Mikan asks, a trite annoyed.

Natsume leans forward so that their foreheads are touching. "Not in a million years."

"Okay. I understand the sentiment, but do you have to do this the day before our wedding?" Mikan, for the sake of said wedding, tries not to let herself get too frustrated this time around.

Natsume stands upright and shuffles around a bit. "I thought it was kind of appropriate," he grumbles. "I did ask you out for the first time in one."

Mending and breaking her heart in the short span of two sentences – and not in that particular order. Bravo, Natsume. Her husband-to-be is turning into a master at reducing her to mush, possibly without even knowing it. Then again, it's Natsume. He's probably known what he does to her straight from the beginning, starting with all of these strange closet visits.

She's about to ask him, just to make sure, when something inside her stops her. Mikan has plenty of time to wonder about that. What she should be asking about is something that the usual closet clichés tell her is only going to be answered in one of said closet visits.

Here goes. "Why do you always choose to do this stuff in a closet?"

Natsume is silent – trying to gather his thoughts into words, it seems. Mikan has the feeling that she's just asked him a rather loaded question. Goodness, does he always have to be so complex? It's as if she's always trying to figure him out, even though she knows him better than anyone else does.

"You don't have to answer, you know," Mikan says softly when, impossibly, he takes even longer to think of what to say.

His answer is immediate. "No. You should know."

"Then _say_ it." For emphasis, Mikan nudges his shoulder impatiently.

Natsume huffs and crosses his arms. "It's a lot to put into words—"

"And you're not good with words, right? Don't tell me that, Natsume. Someone who spends nine years of their life convincing the person they love that they hate them has got to be good with words." She steps up and plants her arms on his shoulders, giving him a peck on the lips.

"And someone who manages to win that person anyway after wizening up from said nine years has to be even better."

Natsume uncrosses his arms so he can wind them around her waist. "Yeah, well that person," he nudges her nose with his, "was smart enough to realize that I was being a dumbass for nine years straight."

"Hey, that's not fair," Mikan states with a pout. "You always had better grades than I did! So when you call yourself dumb it's like calling me—"

He cuts her off with a kiss that she _almost_ gets lost in – and that she suspects he started just to avoid the subject. Natsume pulls away just in time.

"Gonna need you to be coherent for this," he grumbles.

"I should be insulted."

Natsume hums in reply, causing slow warmth to spread from the root of her belly to the rest of her body. Mikan sighs contentedly.

They stand there for a bit, soaking in the cozy atmosphere, before Natsume takes a deep breath. "Guess I should get this over with. These closet visits – I do them because I'm…scared. Or wary. Or somewhere in between with a bit of escapism involved. Still not good with words…" he grumbles under his breath. "See, these closets – they're always dark. And they're secluded. So there's no one to see – no one to judge you. It's…nice in the dark. When it's dark, I can be what I can't be out there."

They're the words of a frightened little boy. Mikan had no idea – she always knew he showed a different side of himself during their little meetings, but for something like this… Suddenly, it makes sense to her. The only times he brought her to a closet were all times he had to take risks and jump a milestone in their relationship. And they were all times he would've been destroyed if he was rejected. In the dark, she won't be able to see what she does to him. And all these years, she's been _whining_ about the reverse…

"You're crying," Natsume feels the need to point out. As if she didn't already know.

Rather than respond with something pseudo-witty regarding his pointing the obvious, she asks, "Who did this to you? People don't normally have that attitude unless they've been hurt, Natsume, and If I ever find who hurt you I'll—"

"Dig up a grave so you can attack a dead body. Right," he deadpans.

Mikan's jaw drops open.

"When I was a kid, there was someone in my family who was bullied so much they committed suicide. I was really confused about it, so I asked my dad to clarify why it happened…and what he told me terrified me. I never want – never wanted to end up like that. I think at some point, I was even obsessed. It's why I was never upfront to you about myself all those years."

They're both quiet for a moment, before Natsume says, "You're still crying."

"Yup," she tells him with a watery voice. "That's because I'm a crybaby. Thanks for telling me, even though I'm a bit mad that you hid it for so long."

"What – I didn't think it was worth telling."

"Not worth telling?!" Mikan doesn't think this is a cliché – it's more of a product of the fact that Natsume is _such a guy_. "You are a complete dunce. I've told you that, right?"

Natsume chuckles. "Yeah, soon-to-be-Mrs. Hyuuga – you have."

_-BONUS-_

"We need to get out of here."

"What? Natsume, don't tell me we're actually stuck this time around—"

"_No!_ No." Natsume suddenly freezes, and then his hand shoots out to cover Mikan's mouth.

It takes three seconds for an indignant ire to flare up in her and make her try to remove the offending appendage from her face before Mikan realizes why he is silencing her; the sound of her mother's footsteps nearby.

"Mikan? Natsume?" she calls.

Mikan's eyebrows scrunch into a scowl when she realizes how absurd this situation actually is. When Yuka's footsteps fade away, Mikan is left with a desire to slap her husband silly.

Natsume removes his hand from her face and she immediately takes the chance to speak in small, insistent tones. "What the hell, Natsume? Are we five? Why are we hiding from my mother – who is harmless, by the way?"

"Your mother is not harmless and you know it, Mikan," Natsume whispers vehemently.

A pause drifts in the air before Mikan responds. "So she's been a bit clingy since Dad died – it's understandable!"

"It's unbearable," Natsume remarks flatly.

Another pause – this time to give Mikan a chance to grimace. "Maybe just a _little_, but we can't just dump her." She runs a hand through her hair – a tic she'd developed during her stressful college days.

"Yes, but she's so annoying it makes me want to leave the whole damn _region_." After thinking it through a bit more, Natsume adds, "As long as she doesn't follow us."

"You'd be willing to leave Tokyo?" Mikan questions, unable to keep the glee completely out of her voice.

"Yes," Natsume answers, exasperated. Then he realizes what she's getting at. "Wait. You want to leave Tokyo? As in _all_ of Tokyo?"

"Why not?" Mikan's getting too tired of playing up the 'country girl in a big city' cliché anyway. "We could drop off my mother at her house and find a flat nearby…" She fiddles with the collar of his shirt, grinning hopefully.

Natsume grunts. "The 'drop your mom at her house' bit is a yes. The 'find a place nearby' is a no." Mikan's smile falls. "But," he adds, bringing her hopes up, "I'd be happy to look for a place in a town at least forty-five minutes away by car. And not seeing her face for a few months. That too."

A huge smile blossoms onto Mikan's face. She'll take what she can get to finally leave this place. "We'll bring my mom back tomorrow, stay at Hotaru's mansion for a few days, and look at houses there in the meantime."

Her husband lets out a mildly bewildered cough. "So suddenly?"

"It _is_ your child I have growing in my stomach," Mikan states with an edge of warning to her voice.

"…I'll request a transfer as soon as I can. And I'll ignore the suspicious feeling that you and your mom planned this."

"Good boy." Mikan pulls him in for a pleased kiss. "I didn't have anything to do with my mom's actions, by the way, but I will remark that she is a smart woman and she happens to be an expert manipulator; as I expect from the person I became a psychologist after. Nonetheless, I hope you pass on that lovely trait to our kid."

In this dark, crowded little space, Mikan can still feel the rare, mischievous grin coming on to Natsume's face.

"Oh, I will. Right after I teach them the importance of dark closets."

FIN.

_A/N: Drop a review? Because why not. Also, if you guys are really good, I might write a companion piece where they're in oversized pantries instead. Haha, just kidding! …Maybe. Also, if you guys are feeling particularly nerdy, I might even post some trivia on this too – what I was thinking when I wrote specific parts and fun headcanons I have for this particular universe and some such._


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